


Christmas Miracle

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Misunderstandings, Office Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5383211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bringing someone to your office Christmas party to make your ex jealous would work a lot better if your ex didn't have the same idea. And if the guy <em>he</em> brought to make <em>you</em> jealous wasn't happening to, you know, date the guy you brought.</p><p>Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> For [brickprotege](http://tmblr.co/mlxa4NOZx_Al8fHel33l7Dg), who requested fake boyfriends, holiday season-y things, and Enjolras struggling to deal with his emotions. I give you a mix of all three, though Enjolras is not the only one who can’t deal with emotions.
> 
> And fluff. All of the fluff.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Courfeyrac sighed at his reflection in the mirror and Grantaire laughed. “Oh, cheer up,” he said, taking a long pull from his flask before offering it to Courfeyrac, who didn’t hesitate before accepting and taking a swig. “I appreciate this, you know.”

“You better,” Courfeyrac grumbled, casting a baleful eye on Grantaire. “You realize if I was actually a good friend, I would tell you that you need to talk to your ex instead of, you know, inviting a friend of yours to pretend to be your boyfriend at the office Christmas party just to make said ex jealous.”

Grantaire scowled. “I am _not_ trying to make Enjolras jealous,” he muttered, though his cheeks were flushed, and not just from the alcohol. “At least, not just trying to make him jealous. I hate going to these kinds of things alone.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him. “Everyone goes to office events alone,” he told him.

“Even so.” Grantaire took the flask back from Courfeyrac, took a swig, and grimaced. “If we were back in college, I would pay you in sex for coming with me tonight.”

“If we were back in college, you would pay me with weed for coming with you tonight,” Courfeyrac corrected primly, recapturing the flask from him. “Besides, I owe you one, and I cannot accept sex as a payment because I am a taken man. Seriously.”

Grantaire smirked. “You say that as if I have reason to doubt you,” he said playfully.

Courfeyrac scowled. “I mean it,” he scolded. “No sex.”

* * *

“Please tell me you’re not still mooning over your boyfriend,” Enjolras sighed, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

Combeferre scowled at him. “I don’t moon,” he said snippily. “And besides, it’s not everyday I’m forced to attend my best friend’s office party because he can’t bear to face his ex-boyfriend alone, despite the fact that I have a boyfriend with whom things are getting rather serious.”

Enjolras started to retort then stopped, his expression softening. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry for asking you to do this, but it’s the office Christmas party, which is the subject for all gossip for the year to come. Ordinarily, this would not bother me in the slightest, but with what happened…”

He trailed off and Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “You know,” he said, conversationally, “you never did tell me what happened between you and Grantaire.”

Enjolras yanked on his tie with more force than was necessary. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said with perhaps more acidity than was required. “We’re just too different of people to work.”

* * *

“Where the hell is the bar?” Grantaire muttered as soon as they walked in, his grip on Courfeyrac’s arm vice-like.

Across the room, Enjolras practically yanked Combeferre into the room, scouring the crowd as he muttered, “Where the hell is--”

He broke off when he spotted Grantaire, who saw him at the exact same moment, both blanching and instantly turning away. “Bathroom,” Grantaire muttered to Courfeyrac, while Enjolras wheezed, “I need a fucking drink”, each heading in the opposite direction of the other.

Bewildered, Combeferre and Courfeyrac glanced around the room and made eye contact with each other. “Oh, shit,” Courfeyrac swore, while Combeferre just looked bemused.

Since Enjolras had in fact not headed towards the bar, despite declaring that he needed a drink, Courfeyrac jerked his head towards it, and both men met at the bar, Combeferre grabbing a beer, Courfeyrac telling the bartender hoarsely, “Double shot of vodka. And keep it coming.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” Combeferre said lightly.

Courfeyrac snorted. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were going to be here?”

Combeferre frowned. “I did,” he reminded him. “I told you that I was going with my best friend to his work event. Why didn’t _you_ tell me _you_ were going to be here?”

“Ok, firstly, you didn’t tell me that your friend was my friend’s ex-boyfriend, and you also didn’t tell me that you were going as your best friend’s _date_ ,” Courfeyrac said crossly. “Besides, I _did_ tell you I was going to be here. In fact, I _did_ tell you that I was going as an old friend’s fake boyfriend, as you might recall.”

Sighing, Combeferre rolled his eyes before his expression softened. “How we call a truce and I’ll make it up to you later?”

Courfeyrac’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he smiled. “Fine, but only because we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Like how to get Enjolras and Grantaire back together?”

Courfeyrac’s grin turned conniving. “Like how to get Enjolras and Grantaire back together.”

* * *

“There you are!” Courfeyrac said, too loudly, and Grantaire winced, turning away from the stairwell which he had been half-contemplating throwing himself off of. “Come on, cheer up. It’s Christmas!”

“It’s the first week of December and it’s 60 degrees outside. Hardly feels like Christmas,” Grantaire grumbled, though he let Courfeyrac pull him back towards the ballroom that the company had rented for the holiday party.

Courfeyrac slipped his arm through Grantaire’s. “Even so. Besides, you’re the one who invited me in order to make your ex jealous, so you might as well show me off instead of sulking.”

Though Grantaire grumbled, “I’m not sulking,” he still followed Courfeyrac obediently on to the dance floor.

They danced in silence for a few minutes to some country singer’s overworked version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” before Courfeyrac suddenly brightened. “Oh, and look who it is,” he said, pulling away from Grantaire, who turned around, confused.

Enjolras was standing there with Combeferre, looking determinedly away from Grantaire. They stood there awkwardly for a long moment before Courfeyrac said brightly, “Babe, how about some introductions?”

Grantaire glanced over at him as if he was contemplating murder before clearing his throat and saying gruffly. “This is Enjolras. He...I worked with him. And this is--”

“His boyfriend,” Courfeyrac interjected, fluttering his eyelashes at Enjolras, who looked nonplussed. “But more importantly, who is this gorgeous dish by your side?”

Combeferre turned beet red and Enjolras stammered, “This is Combeferre, my, uh, my--”

“HIs date,” Combeferre said firmly, giving Grantaire an apologetic smile. “Who can also read the situation and sees that you two need to talk. Why don’t you two dance and I’ll dance with your, um, boyfriend.”

“What a delightful idea,” Courfeyrac said, grabbing Combeferre’s hand and yanking him away before either Enjolras or Grantaire could protest.

Grantaire looked over at Enjolras and managed a weak smile. “Well, we might as well dance, I suppose,” he said, offering his hand to Enjolras as if he half-expected him to refuse.

To his surprise, Enjolras took his hand, turning a bit red as he let Grantaire pull him on to the dance floor where they swayed awkwardly in silence for a moment. Then Grantaire sighed. “This doesn’t have to be this hard,” he told him quietly.

“It’s a break-up,” Enjolras said, just as quiet, with a bit of sadness in his voice. “I think it’s supposed to be hard.”

“But you and I were friends, once upon a time, before we started doing...the whole dating thing. Couldn’t we just...go back to that?”

Enjolras sighed. “I think trying to be friends would just be even harder.”

Grantaire frowned, his expression flickering before he blurted, “Then maybe we should try dating again.”

“Grantaire…” Enjolras sighed, and they stopped dancing, though neither moved away.

“Well?” Grantaire asked quietly, eyes searching Enjolras’s. “Our fight was dumb and you know it. Certainly not worth throwing everything away over, which I tried to tell you at the time, but like always, you didn’t want to listen to me.”

Enjolras’s expression twisted. “Oh, I was the one who didn’t want to listen?” he asked, his voice low, and his eyes glinted dangerously as he added, “Besides, what would your _boyfriend_ think?”

Grantaire gritted his teeth, his eyes dark. “And what would _yours_ think?” he spat.

"Ok, this has gone on long enough," Courfeyrac announced, standing with his hands on his hips next to Combeferre in front of Enjolras and Grantaire, who broke apart, both looking slightly guilty.

"Courfeyrac--" Grantaire started, sounding a bit irritated, but Enjolras frowned, looking over at Combeferre, who met his gaze evenly.

"Wait, Courfeyrac?" Enjolras repeated, before realization dawned over his face. "Of course. Courfeyrac."

Grantaire looked baffled until Combeferre interjected helpfully, "Yes, Courfeyrac, the guy that I've been seeing."

"Wait, what?" Grantaire exclaimed, but Enjolras ignored him, shaking his head as he told Combeferre, "No, not _that_ , I know him." He glanced over at Courfeyrac, who was grinning. "Don't I?"

"How long it takes to be remembered," Courfeyrac sighed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. He winked at Combeferre. "Enjolras and I went to high school together for a year. In his defense, I looked quite a bit different. I was all anarchy and punk rock and tight leather." He paused. "Though that thought does give me some ideas..."

"Courfeyrac, focus," Combeferre commanded.

Courfeyrac shook his head. "Right. Anyway." He turned back to Enjolras and Grantaire, both of whom still seemed confused. "Since you two seem currently unable to work through this like adults, let me spell this out for you. Enjolras brought Combeferre to make Grantaire jealous. Grantaire brought me to make Enjolras jealous. Evidently, it worked, because you both still have feelings for each other."

Suddenly, Enjolras and Grantaire seemed unable to meet each other’s eyes, and Combeferre sighed. "I'll take over from here." He looked at Enjolras. “Enj, not only am I the only person allowed to call you that, but I’m the person who knows you best, though it sounds like there’s some interesting stories from high school that I haven’t yet heard.” Courfeyrac grinned and Combeferre ignored him. “And you have been miserable since breaking up with Grantaire. I know, your work is important and you’re doing good things and changing the world, but when you were with Grantaire, everything you did had so much more meaning. Think of how much more good you could do in the world with him by your side.”

“And Grantaire, you’re the asshole I was assigned to live with freshman year in college, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, and I have been assured on multiple occasions by your drunken ass that you believe in nothing,” Courfeyrac said, staring levelly at Grantaire, who seemed uncomfortable by where this was going. “But the one thing I never heard you say, no matter how many times you raged at Enjolras’s ideals or naivety, was that you didn’t believe in him.”

Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire, his expression soft. “Is that true?” he asked quietly.

Grantaire managed a small smile. “Maybe,” he acknowledged, suddenly serious, “but it doesn’t change the fundamental parts of me -- I’m a cynic, and an asshole, and that will not change.”

Enjolras smiled slightly as well. “And I’m never going to stop trying to change that,” he told Grantaire, “because maybe I believe enough for the both of us.”

“A sceptic who adheres to a believer,” one of Enjolras and Grantaire’s coworkers mused from where he was dancing nearby. “That’s so poetic.”

“Shut up, Prouvaire,” Grantaire and Enjolras chorused together without looking away from each other.

Enjolras shrugged. “So you’re not going to change, but I’m never going to stop trying to change your mind. Is that enough?”

Grantaire looked back at him determinedly. “You tell me. I was never the one who said it wasn’t.”

In response, Enjolras pulled Grantaire to him before kissing him, just as the strains of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” started playing, and the whole ballroom it seemed broke into applause. “Prophetic,” Courfeyrac sighed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Pathetic,” Grantaire muttered, though he was grinning at Enjolras as if he never wanted to look away.

Combeferre sighed. “And Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said before grabbing Courfeyrac’s hand and telling Enjolras and Grantaire, “Now if you’ll excuse us, I would like to go engage in some passionate necking with my actual boyfriend, in no small part so that I don’t have to watch you two.”

He all but yanked Courfeyrac out of the ballroom, both barely stopping to grab their coats before running out into the streets, Courfeyrac laughing breathlessly. “Slow down a second,” he commanded, his eyes sparkling. “We just pulled off a Christmas miracle, and I’d like to savor it.”

“And I’d like to pull off your clothes,” Combeferre told him, though he obediently slowed down, his mouth curving into a smile as he looked at Courfeyrac. “But we really did pull it off, didn’t we?”

“We really did.” Courfeyrac stopped and grabbed Combeferre’s hand, suddenly serious. “Look, because it’s Christmas and because we just proved that true love conquers all, I just wanted to say--”

Combeferre cut him off by kissing him, and Courfeyrac kissed him back, one hand curling in Combeferre’s hair while the other wrapped around his waist. When they broke apart, both were grinning, though Courfeyrac’s grin turned delighted as he exclaimed, “Look, it’s snowing!”

Combeferre laughed and took Courfeyrac’s hand. “Come on,” he said, kissing his cheek before telling him, “And Merry Christmas, Courfeyrac.”

“Merry Christmas, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac returned, as they walked hand-in-hand towards home.

* * *

Back inside the ballroom, Grantaire and Enjolras were dancing slowly together, oblivious to the strains of Mariah still echoing around them. “It’s snowing outside,” Grantaire said softly, glancing out the window.

“Wasn’t it like 60 degrees earlier today?” Enjolras asked, his voice muffled from leaning his head against Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Christmas miracle?” Grantaire offered as a possibility, and Enjolras leaned up to kiss him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Christmas miracle.”


End file.
